Of His Shadow
by LyraCat
Summary: I'm constantly hidden yet by his side – unknown to him as I watch from deep within the darkness of his shadow, but… One cannot escape what has always been a part of them. The past will catch up eventually. For what he is, I was; what I am, he will become…


I've been with him from the very beginning, though he doesn't acknowledge me, being of his shadow.

The others don't like him because he's different. He's teased. Bullied. Ridiculed.

And I feed off that.

The negativity and malevolent feelings fuel me, but I don't say a word. I only watch. Waiting.

Waiting.

* * *

His father figure dies before his eyes. Emotions grip him tightly. He regrets. Feels anguish. But… He doesn't break. It's too early – only the beginning. If he knew what were to come…

I grit my teeth. Not yet, I tell myself.

Not yet.

* * *

Adulthood.

It's thrust upon him. Violently. One moment a child, the next fully grown. He's flooded with senses he hadn't felt for seven years. Seven years that passed in a blink of an eye. With them comes seven years of growth - seven years of transformation.

He's a new person now - one that bears the weight of responsibility. It's such a heavy burden and so I, of his shadow, watch him struggle to shoulder it as he carries knowledge – not innocence.

That darkness he feels… it gives me power. So slowly – slowly – I feed off it, drawing more and more from him as he tries to push on.

He trips over his own feet, unable to even walk with his new body. He can barely stand from all that's going through his mind, all that's changed within him. I suppress a laugh at his ineptitude, but I wait.

Not yet. So I remain of his shadow.

* * *

Now? I wonder that. Should I let him know he's not alone, just as he has finally begun to handle himself?

Should I let him know that I'm here?

I continue to simply watch. Just as I always have.

He scans the surroundings; eyes squinted from the brightness of the shallow water in which he wades. Slowly, with exhaustion, he walks past the single dead tree in the center of the infinite expanse.

Death.

He feels it, stronger than ever before. It's been clinging to him this whole time. Ever since the beginning of this "heroic journey" he set out on.

He watched his father die; this tree reminding him of that, those same emotions flooding his worn, aged form once more.

So, with them, I decide to play.

I slip free, no longer of his shadow – for now. He must have felt it, my presence – no, his own darkness.

Blue eyes meet my red ones and once more, I feed off the weakness he radiates.

Negativity.

I dive in. His muscles tense, eyes widen as he swiftly yet clumsily grabs for his sword and shield, bringing them up just in time to block my attack.

I smile, white teeth showing beneath my black lips. I feel a shiver crawl down his spine as my red gaze pierces him.

I jump back so he can see me fully. See himself and what he has become. What he has been and will be.

His mind is abuzz from the sight.

I melt into the water and circle him. He looks about frantically, whipping his head from side to side, droplets of sweat and water fly off his form from the action.

I don't give him a chance to think where I could have gone. I rise from the shallow pool, once more charging forward. I match his movements. Our blades clash, the two of us parrying one another's attacks. Then –

Then he lands a blow.

I can feel his ragged breath, his strained muscles and the shocked gaze that slips onto his face as I begin to speak, his blade piercing my abdomen.

"You are I."

That is all I say, smile on my face, shadow dripping from my wound. I don't bleed.

He does.

* * *

Silence.

That's what follows the final blow; the fatal sword thrust that ends the reign of the Demon King.

He stands there. Still.

He knows it's over. The end. Done. Finish. But…

There is blood on his hands - _his_ hand, _his_ fault. All of it was him. Never anyone else – never even me, of his shadow, as I watch with a smile. It's so close, so soon. He's at his end, just as everything he has witnessed is.

And he knows that.

I feed off it. The confusion. Anticipation of what will happen now that there is nothing ahead, no goal other than emptiness. There isn't any brightness, any joy from his deeds. He's killed. Many. Hundreds perhaps.

So all he knows is fear of the unknown from his actions.

He lets out a scream; my own laughter echoes that of his terror. With the action I am fully free, no longer of his shadow – for he is in mine.

And so he finally breaks.

* * *

 **A/N: AWWW YUS! STARTING OUT THE _YEAR OF ZELDA_ WITH SOME OoT ANGST! I'M SO LOOKING FORWARD TO ZELDA U AND TPHD! THIRTY YEARS OF ZELDA! WOOT!  
**

 **Ahem.  
Thanks to PhoenixCaptain for being my unsuspecting beta reader in regards to this fic, in turn convincing me to post it, as otherwise it would have ended up scrapped. :P  
**


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